


It's Cold Outside

by sharedwithyou



Category: Captain America (Movies), Captain America - All Media Types, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Angst and Humor, Angstangstangst, Depressing, F/M, Homelessness, Hope vs. Despair, NoWheresVille, Reader-Insert, Steve Rogers Feels, Steve Rogers Is a Good Bro, Triggers, mostly angst, possible triggers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-05
Updated: 2017-02-05
Packaged: 2018-09-22 02:20:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,698
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9577901
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sharedwithyou/pseuds/sharedwithyou
Summary: not based on the jazz standard Baby It's Cold OutsideWarning: Very Depressing. But not Heart-Breaking. Random mention of harsh events. Homelessness. But not hopelessness.“Don’t wait up for me.”“It’s supposed to be the guy who says that.”You smiled and waved over your shoulder as you stuffed your hair under your knit cap and opened the door, nearly getting blown back into the house by a gust of wind.“You sure you don’t want me to come with you?”





	

**Author's Note:**

> i haven't been able to write for a while, and i think after reading this fic i think you'll understand why
> 
> Warning: Possible Sadness triggers. Random Mention of a harsh event. Mainly Homelessness, in case that's a trigger.
> 
> hope you all are taking care of yourselves.
> 
> XOXO Bucky

 

“Don’t wait up for me.”

“It’s supposed to be the guy who says that.”

You smiled and waved over your shoulder as you stuffed your hair under your knit cap and opened the door, nearly getting blown back into the house by a gust of wind.

“You sure you don’t want me to come with you?”

“You spent a week in Siberia getting shot at and shitting in holes. I think you deserve a night off.”

“It was Somalia.”

“Potato, Au Gratin.”

“You’ll never get that expression right.” His eyes crinkled in a heartfelt smile as you felt yours crack.

“Gotta go.”

“What’s the hurry?” He quipped.

 

 

“Baby, it’s cold outside.” Then you shut the door in your face, instead of his.

 

 

“I’m worried about her, Buck.”

“I know. But you know she’ll be even more stressed if you go after her.”

“I’m the man. The man is supposed to chase after his woman.”

“Hey don’t get too macho on her or she’ll spout her feminist bullcrap again.”

“I happen to support her bullcrap.”

Bucky’s laugh crackled over the phone as Steve lay in bed, watching Gilmore Girls because he’d saved about 80 citizens 2 days ago and he’d earned the right to watch a ‘chick show.’

He had neatly folded your fuzzy pink robe and laid it on the pillow next to him, so you’d have something to smile about when you came home and he’d inevitably fallen asleep waiting for you.

“You guys are so perfect for each other it’s disgusting.”

 

 

“If we’re so perfect, how come we never get to spend any time together?”

 

“Because all the perfectness in the world can’t stop the same old shit happening over and over again.”

 

 

“Two burgers, one slice of cake and a carton of milk. Next!”

“I asked for no tomatoes on mine.”

“Sorry sir, but we’re very busy. Just take it out.”

“If you guys are all about ‘serving the people,’ why can’t you get one order right?!”

You bit your tongue as another volunteer placated the wild-eyed vagabond and pushed you towards the grill.

You’d rather get burned by the sparking coals than make small-talk with the foul-smelling-and-tempered bums.

Yes, charity was about giving back, and remembering that you were lucky and learning compassion.

But if you got reprimanded for cooking the patty medium-well instead of medium, you were gonna start throwing punches.

 

 

“If you hate it that much, why do you go every night?”

“Because it’s the right thing to do, Steve.”

“Is it really a good deed if you resent doing it the whole time?”

“You know what? I honestly don’t know.

What I do know, is that people are on the streets because things get blown up, and the county is hemorrhaging money because they can barely deal with getting new parking meters let alone the 30% of the population that recently lost their homes.”

“Hey, Loki didn’t exactly sic his aliens on NoWheresVille.”

“Yeah, well it doesn’t take an Evil Overlord to shatter the economy.”

He shook his head, trying to understand without starting an argument. “Just take a few days off, (y/n). You need your rest.”

“You know better than me that the wicked don’t rest.”

“The expression is no rest for the wicked.”

“Whatever. As long as there’s corruption in the office, there’s danger on the streets.”

“NoWheresVille has the lowest crime rate in the country.”

“Fine. There’s suffering on the streets, then.”

He got up and put his hands on your shoulders, halting your restless pacing and waving of arms.

“(Y/n), you’re the one who always tells me even superheroes need rest. You literally tied me to the bed when I tried to call Fury to ask him to put me on an extra mission.”

“I had an ulterior motive.” You wiggled your eyebrows, and he leaned in to kiss you deeply.

You enjoyed it for a second, before pulling away when you realized that no one had picked up tarps to lay on the ground so the beggars’ butts wouldn’t get wet when they had to sit down and eat in the rain.

“(Y/n)?”

“Sorry babe, duty calls.”

 

“(Y/n).” He said it again, wanting you to remember what he’d told you.

And you’d meant it when you said it to him; that everyone needed a break.

Even superheroes.

 

But you weren’t a superhero. You were just one person trying to make a town just a little less fucked up for people who didn’t have the luxury to help themselves.

 

And it was so cold outside.

 

 

“Go back to sleep, hon.”

“Huh?!” You shot awake and leapt for your phone, before realizing it was on the nightstand across the room, charging. Steve knew you hated having to restart your phone. “What time is it?!”

“It’s 6 PM.”

“Shit.” You flung your robe onto the blankets and sprinted down to the hall to check on the stew. Luckily the slow-cooker was, well, slow. Who knows how many meals you would’ve burned if you’d gotten the pressure cooker Tony was raving about.

“(Y/n). I need you to sit down.”

“No time, Steve! I’m late to Taco Tuesday at the shelter!”

“You’re running around in your underwear.”

“What, you no likey?” You pouted, but he remained on point. Damn.

“(Y/n) you came home at 2 AM last night.”

“We had a brainstorming meeting at the 24-hour Starbucks after we ran out of buns yesterday!”

“Then you stayed up til 7 AM on your laptop looking for wholesale cup and napkin discounts.”

“Hey, I could’ve been watching porn,” you argued.

“You fell asleep with your face on the keyboard. Unless United Utensils is some very specific fetish, which I doubt it is.”

“Oh.” You rubbed your face, but the keyboard marks had long been erased by the soft cotton pillow after Steve had carried you to bed. You hadn’t even remembered falling asleep.

“You’re overworking yourself, hon.”

“It’s winter, Stevie. We need to make sure these people get warm meals. The weather hits below freezing and you know there isn’t enough room in the hospices for all of them. And we’re out of sleeping bags again.”

He rubbed his face instead of rubbing your back. He knew you’d get ticklish, and subsequently distracted. He needed your full attention right now.

 

“You can’t control the weather (y/n).”

“Well, duh.”

“Just like you can’t control which budgets the mayor decides to cut-”

“We’re organizing a march for Thursday afternoon-“

“Just like you can’t control which cities the Hydras decide to hide in-“

“Well that’s why I want us to start our own Nowheresville Militia type thing-“

 

“Just like I can’t control how much I miss you when you’re not around.”

 

You stopped and looked at him, sorrow filling your face.

He almost reached forward to pull you in, but he wanted you to take the step yourself.

 

“If one of the vagrants was Bucky, you’d understand.”

“That’s a cheap shot, (y/n).”

But you were right, more than he could know.

 

 

 

“Spare some change, Miss?”

You shook your head and hugged your jacket tightly around you, wishing you didn’t have to walk the fifteen long blocks to school. It wasn’t exactly the wealthiest part of town. Or the safest.

“Hey at least you have a jacket!”

You ignored him; if you had change, you’d be taking the bus instead of getting harassed for 20 minutes just to save $1.75.

“Bitch!!”

The yell traveled as you quickened your footsteps to almost a jog.

“Yeah, you better run!!”

You cursed under your breath as you turned into a full-on sprint and prayed the next two lights would stay green. Stupid bums couldn’t chase you for more than a minute since they were never sober.

 

“Shit!!”

 

You scraped your elbow against the pavement as you turned the corner and ran into whaddya-know, another fucking bum, making you lose your balance.

“Miss?”

“Sorry, no change!” You picked up your backpack quickly and back-stepped quickly, while rummaging around for the pocket-knife your now-ex-boyfriend had given you when he heard you’d be going to college Downtown. If the other guys caught up, you’d be outnumbered.

“Just wanted to apologize for knocking you over.”

“Oh, right. Yeah, no problem.” You spoke quickly, relieved, before hurrying down the block again.

“Wait! You dropped something!”

You patted your pockets, hoping it wasn’t your keys.

He ambled closer to you, trying to look as non-threatening as possible. “Here.”

You reached forward, and he clasped a hand around yours, a gesture that would’ve scared the shit out of you if he wasn’t smiling so…normally.

“Sorry about those other assholes. I’ll try to get them off your back.”

You smiled weakly and nodded, before he released your hand and stepped back, giving you a nod as a goodbye.

He’d almost turned the corner when you opened your hand and called out.

“This isn’t mine!”

He turned back and smiled again. “Your jacket has holes in it. There’s a direct line to the school, but you’re not taking it. You need that $20 more than I do.”

“I can’t take this.” You were breathing through your nose now, and somehow the stench of unwashed clothes wasn’t making you dry-heave.

“I have a feeling life’s been hard on you kid. Give yourself a break.” He waved you towards the University, and realizing you were 15 minutes late, you gave a shy wave and ran the rest of the way to class, your chest aching from sprinting through the wind, and maybe because you’d started to cry.

 

 

“So, this is him?”

“Yes.”

“The Great Terror of Russia? The Soldier of Blizzards?”

“I go by Bucky.”

You gave the brunette hottie a suspicious look, before glancing back at Steve, who looked like he was about to pass out.

“You don’t look that scary to me.”

“I try to stay inconspicuous.”

“With that huge shiny arm, I’m not sure that’s possible.”

Steve cleared his throat loudly.

“I do what I can.”

“Well, there’s clearly something very wrong with you.”

Steve stepped between the two of you, fulfilling Tony’s prophecy of a “Steve Sandwich Threesome.”

“(Y/n), you have no idea how much he’s been-“

“I mean, he’s obviously gone way too long without a home cooked meal.”

Steve turned a happy shade of red, while Bucky raised a cool eyebrow.

“Wait til you try my famous chili, Frosty. It will change your world.”

 

 

 

“(Y/n)? Where’d you go?”

You blinked and you were back in the kitchen in your undies again, in the middle of the same fight about the same thing.

“Just remembering. You know, the beginning.”

His face softened as he saw you shoving fritos at his best friend after he’d eaten the entire pot of chili, before screaming Eureka and starting a Facebook Group for a new City Soup Kitchen.

“You truly have a big heart, hon.”

“You’re the one who saves the world.”

“It’s not a competition.”

“I just…

 

What if there’s more I could be doing? What if while I’m texting, I drop my phone in a vat of soup and it shatters, poisoning the entire thing? What if I’m at the movies when the Meals on Wheels van breaks down, and there’s a few unruly bums who run off with all the food?”

 

“Those are all crazy, outrageous scenarios (y/n). They would never happen!”

 

“They have happened. All of them. To me.”

 

You stared at each other, a mixture of incredulity and wonder, laughter in sadness as life always was.

 

 

“What if while we’re on our honeymoon, the city council takes our permits and sends out a few patrols to make sure the undesirables won’t ‘congregate,’ and sets up a Schmoozing Gala in our auditorium without planning for it ahead of time, buying out most of the grocery stores so even the bums with some spare change can’t get enough food to share with the others?

 

And the ones who don’t, freeze to death?”

 

“You can’t save everyone, (y/n).”

“But I have to try. I owe him that much.”

 

 

“Thanks for the tip on the bakery. I had no idea their day-old bread was 75% off! It tastes just as good!”

“No worries. Us bums, we gotta watch out for each other, yeah?”

You sat down on the steps next to the Mysterious Santa and he nudged you with a grin, before quizzing you on your Spanish verbs.

You wanted to offer your facilities to him, but your sister’s friend had let a guy use her shower and gotten raped.

You wanted to pay him back, but you were two months behind on rent.

Somehow, he acted like you didn’t owe him a thing.

“What happened to your hand?”

“Eh, accident.” He shrugged it off, but it was wrapped thickly and the bandage was still stained all the way through. The fucker who used to harass you walked by then, turning his face away and completely avoiding the two of you. He was hobbling a bit; it was then that you understood why you hadn’t been chased at all this week.

He saw your distressed face and nudged you once more.

“Hey! Don’t worry about me. You gotta keep your head in the game. Get good grades, get a good job, get the hell out of here!”

“Hey, it may be a shithole, but it’s home.” You’d always said that because everyone else did, like they had to convince themselves that they hadn’t been dealt a terrible hand to begin with. Somehow, though, it felt more real when you said it now.

“I’ll toast to that.” And he grabbed the other half of your baguette and dinked it against yours.

 

And if there was probably the closest to a poetic ending in Nowheresville, it would be that he at least wasn’t on an empty stomach when the frostbite got him that night.

 

 

“I don’t believe in anything anymore, Steve.”

He wanted to ask if that included him, but this was bigger than just the two of you. At least, that’s what you thought.

“I don’t believe in our leaders. I don’t believe in our policies. And for fuck’s sake, I can’t even believe in the general goodness that supposedly lies in all of us.”

“You don’t mean that, (y/n). Not that last part.”

“I just don’t believe in Nowheresville.”

 

It was unfair that you even said that. You’d spent the better half of your life trying to make something out of nothing, and you’d been damn proud of it.

You hadn’t chosen to be born here, but you’d chosen to live here; to stay, because if you could fight for yourself, you might have a little bit of fight left to fight for someone else too.

And you hadn’t even learned that man’s name, but he’d showed you that it wasn’t about where you were, but who you are.

And if you wanted to do more than just take care of your own problems, you could do it anywhere. Even in a shitty place like here.

 

 

“You don’t owe this town anything, (y/n).”

You stared at him, so tired.

“And if you ever owed that homeless man anything, you’ve more than paid it off.”

“I…”

“And he wouldn’t have wanted a debt to hang over your head. It was a gift. Just like everything you’ve done for those people out there, whether they’re thankful for it or not; it’s a gift.”

You sat down heavily.

 

“Thanks Steve. I needed to hear that.”

 

The dark clouds would be there for a while, but the sun was peeking through.

 

 

“Now I’m asking, as someone to whom you owe nothing.

Let the weight of the world roll off your shoulders.

If you won’t do it for yourself, do it for me.”

 

You felt the tears prick at your eyes; at the memory of a good deed that couldn’t go unpunished, at the smile of a man haunted by demons, at the light of a red white and blue angel, and at the unfairness of a world that would never let you be.

 

 

“But Steve:

 

It’s cold outside.”

 

 

“I know, baby.

 

But it’s warm in here.”

**Author's Note:**

> thanks for reading lovelies!
> 
> I don't have the energy for quick polls
> 
> the 'outrageous what=if's that actually happened" is a spin-off of leslie knope from parks and rec and her first date disasters. i love her, and the show.
> 
> this is actually based on some real events that happened in my life. not all of it, but a lot of it.  
> all the feels were real, unapologetically
> 
> as such, i've been taking care of stuff between family and friends with the recent changes in the good old US of Freaking A
> 
> i hope you are all doing well, and taking care of yourselves. And if you have the energy, bring a little light to someone else's life too.
> 
> I hope my writing adds something to your life, even if it's not happy all the time. It's something I put my heart and soul into, and I love you all very much.
> 
> XOXO Bucky the Mindfucker


End file.
